


Most Dangerous Game

by streetsuss_serenade



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Canon Typical Swearing, This was supposed to be PWP, canon typical slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 17:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14360529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streetsuss_serenade/pseuds/streetsuss_serenade
Summary: “Ray,” Brad said, sliding into the seat next to him. “You know that tacit agreement we have where you pretend you don’t know Nate and I are dating and, in return, I don’t tell the worst stories I know about the fucked up shit you do when you’ve been drinking?” Ray’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, and he looked from Brad to Nate, who’d sat down on his other side.Brad and Nate show up  to get Christeson married, and decide to have some fun of their own.





	Most Dangerous Game

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to GealachGirl for taking the long, rambling thing that I'd written and turning it into the long, slightly-less rambling thing that it is now!

‘“I’m sure I’ll find someplace to crash,” Ray proclaimed, overly loud in the crowded lobby. “There has to be a bridesmaid willing to share.” His accompanying grin was lewd, and Brad rolled his eyes to himself.

Brad had already dumped his bag in the room he booked weeks ago, because he wasn’t a child, for fucks sake. Neither was Ray, but that hadn’t stopped him from rolling into town for Christeson’s wedding with no reservation and no plan.

Truth be told, Brad’s patience with his colleagues was at its end. It was bad enough that he had to spend the weekend with them in uncomfortable clothes, in some random-ass town in Southern California Christeson’s bride had the misfortune call home. Worse,  someone had had the bright idea to book them all a tour at a local brewery for the morning before the wedding.

Now Brad was stuck in a crowd of jostling, swearing marines who were generally disturbing the peace while they waited for Lilley to pull around with the van he’d rented.

Garza wandered over to where Brad was standing, slightly removed from the skrum. “You can’t eat it. I asked.”

When Brad just stared at him, Garza gestured towards a plant which Brad had not given much attention previously. It was fake and festooned with dusty plastic lemons. He looked from the tree back to Gabe. “You wanted to eat that.”

“Hell yeah! Free food!”

Brad was starting to wonder if he could escape back to his hotel room.  He couldn’t remember why he’d agreed to this in the first place. But he’d already paid the fee and there would be beer, so he headed outside to wait.

Nate should be at the hotel by the time the tour was over, and Poke and his family should be arriving shortly after that, so that should be enough of a buffer to prevent Brad from having to spend too much time alone with these miscreants. Brad knew he could count on Poke for at least one good lecture on California drivers, and how an influx of white people had ruined his state. It was guaranteed to keep most of the younger guys away, which would be a blessing.

When Brad returned to the room after the tour, all signs pointed to Nate, but Nate himself was curiously absent. There were clothes hanging in the closet, a book on one of the nightstands.

Brad checked the clock. There was an awkward amount of time left before he needed to be dressed and downstairs to meet everyone to take the shuttles to the church. He was trying to decide whether or not finding Nate was worth the risk of getting trapped socializing in the lobby when the door opened.

“Hey,” Nate said, smiling.

“Hey.”

Nate stepped forward and gave him a hug. It hadn’t been that long since Nate was out for Memorial Day, but it still felt good to have Nate in his arms.

Nate turned his head, kissed Brad’s cheek, pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, and stepped back.

“I brought you a present. Ray texted me about the restaurant at the brewery being closed. He said that you were all going to starve to death, so I stopped on the way from the airport. There’s a sandwich for you.”

Brad grabbed Nate’s hand and tugged him back in, because that was still an unexpected pleasure even after all this time. When he broke away, Brad said, “It’s creepy that you and Ray text.”

Nate laughed, “You’re just jealous that he has friends who aren’t you.”

“It’s not jealousy,” Brad corrected as he headed to the fridge, “I just don’t understand how he cons seemingly sane people into voluntarily spending time with him.”

 

The wedding was good, as far as weddings go. There was a lot of fatuous talk about rib bones and cleaving into one flesh. Christeson looked goofily nervous and happy. Stafford grinned like an idiot the whole time and didn’t drop the rings when he handed them to the priest. Poke’s kids had perfected the art of bickering silently, so Brad watched them in the pew ahead of him for most of the ceremony.

Gabe and Lilley fidgeted next to him, and on the other side of them, Nate looked serious and adult in his grey suit. Brad didn’t know Evelyn well, but Nate liked her, so she must be alright.

At the reception, the bride’s seating chart went immediately out the window. Someone threw a dinner roll. Ray snatched it out of the air and shoved in his mouth in one bite. Lilley somehow got roped into arm wrestling Manimal during the entree course, knocking over multiple glasses of water.  Barely controlled chaos. Situation normal.

Throughout the speeches, Brad tried not to frown every time someone mentioned John. He knew Christeson’s given name, it just sounded wrong. Stafford’s mouth twisted awkwardly around it during his toast, so Brad knew he wasn’t alone in finding it alien. Qtip also managed to go the entire speech without cussing or calling anybody homeboy, so Brad chalked that up as a victory for Nate.

When the programmed part of the night was over, most of Bravo fled to the bar, but not Nate. As soon as people were able to stand, Nate was surrounded by a flock of Christeson’s relatives, all of whom seemed to want to touch him and talk to him, and tell him what he meant to them and to John.

Brad had never asked Nate how he felt about this part. Was it nice to hear that his struggles meant something? Did he hate it?  Did he consider listening an extension of what he owed to Christeson? Brad wondered every time he saw Nate get mobbed, but it didn’t feel like something he should ask. He suspected Nate himself didn’t know.

He stepped forward to rescue Nate, and was stopped short by the look on Nate’s face. Nate was looking over the head of the person he was talking to. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were narrowed. It was a look that Brad had learned to recognize. It had gotten him into and out of a lot of trouble. It had gotten him into this relationship, truth be told. It meant that Nate had made a decision and was about to do something reckless.

While Brad watched, Nate cut a path around the room to a spot where an older woman was dancing by herself on the edge of the dance floor. Evelyn was Cuban, so the music playing all night had been a pulsing mix of horns and percussion. Brad hadn’t paid it any mind, except to note it as unfamiliar.

The music and dance might be unfamiliar to him, but it clearly wasn’t to Nate. Nate bent over and introduced himself to the woman, and then led her further out onto the dance floor. From the second he took the woman’s hand, his bearing shifted into something smooth and sinuous. Nate’s feet, knees and hips all appeared to be moving independently, but instead of looking like a foal on ice, he was graceful and controlled. He wasn’t as quick as some of the others on the floor, but he was holding his own.

The music picked up and Brad felt his breathing deepen and slow as he fell into the stillness that came in response to any threat. Only this time the threat was Nate’s ass swiveling around a function room in light wool. Jesus Fucking Christ.

Behind him, Pappy said, “Either I’m blinder’n a two day old kitten, or the LT’s taken up tap dancing.”

“Don’t conflate the dances of my people with the semi-rhythmic thrashing of yours, “ Poke said automatically, but it was clear that his heart wasn’t in it. All of their attention was transfixed on the bewildering sight of their former platoon commander salsaing.

The intent focus of the group had drawn the attention of some of the others, so a small knot of Marines formed around Brad.

Ray was beside himself with glee. “Holy shit, are you seeing this? Brad, Brad, Brad, are you seeing this?” Brad ignored him.

Nate and the woman made a few more circuits around the floor and then the song ended. The grandmother placed her hands on each side of Nate’s face, pulled him down and planted a kiss on his forehead. Around Brad, Marines wolf whistled.  Nate’s pleased embarrassment was visible even from across the room.

A new song began to play, and there was a swell of enthusiasm from the crowd. Multiple couples rushed onto the dance floor and the crush of people blocked Brad’s view of the group that contained Nate. When the crowd shifted, Brad couldn’t see him anymore.

Brad was about to turn his attention to subduing Ray (who’d started discussing who would look best in a tutu, Nate, Encino Man or Captain America, ) when Nate’s laugh rang out. Brad turned to the sound in time to see Nate pull the Mother of the Bride onto the dance floor.

It was immediately apparent that Nate’s pace in the previous dance had been in consideration of his partner. Nate’s feet were flying so fast that Brad could barely track them. Nate and Evelyn’s mother, apparently finding a rhythm with each other, began a complicated series of steps where they circled and spun around each other, keeping contact only through hands on arms and waists.

Nate spun his partner out and behind him, twisting himself to catch her. He was doing something absolutely obscene with his hips, which Brad was certain was illegal, or should be. Brad’s mouth was dry. His chest hurt. It wasn’t enough that Nate was impossibly good at this, he had to be absolutely gorgeous doing it. _Fucking Nate._

Brad had no idea how long he stood there staring as Nate wove sinuous paths around the dance floor; hips, hands and feet constantly swaying. Later, he and Nate were going to have words about exactly what kind surprises it was appropriate to spring on your partner during a very public gathering.

Luckily for Brad, this time when the song ended, Nate put his hands up and headed back to the group by the bar, only to be swarmed by his men.

“That was some fancy footwork, LT,” Pappy started.

“Mad respect, man,” Poke said, “Not many white boys can keep up with a chica without embarrassing themselves.”

“I had a girlfriend in college who told me it was a mandatory prerequisite to dating her.”

Before anyone could ask for further incriminating details, Christeson came flying through the crowd and slammed his arms around Nate in a bear hug.

“LT, dude, you just scored me so many points, you don’t even know. Evelyn’s family _loves_ you.” Christeson did a weird excited shimmy that reminded Brad just how young he still was, “I’m going to be getting brownie points from this forever!”

“I can’t believe you kept this from us, sir,” Ray said, “ You should have told us. We would have built you a stage. You could have danced with Rudy! It would have been better than a USO show.”

Nate frowned at that line of thought, but Ray kept going, “You would have been more use to us as a showgirl than as an officer in that fucked up chain of command.”

“Is that so?” Nate asked, and his eyes were bright with insulted pride. Brad watched Nate hitch his shoulders back and sighed. Ray didn’t mean anything by it. His mouth sometimes ran ahead of his idiot brain, that was all, and Nate should know that. There was no use in Nate getting his back up just because Ray had had a few beers and was a little loose with his hyperbole.

Nate stepped forward into Ray’s space, and the aggressive move drew attention from all of the Marines in their vicinity, who took an instinctive step back. Before Ray could react, Nate had slipped a hand around his waist and pressed him into a simple box step.

“Did you want to dance, Person? I wouldn’t want you to feel left out.”

Accompanied by cheers, jeers and catcalls from their friends, Nate grabbed Ray’s other hand and moved him in a graceful sweep of the small space in front of the bar. Ray tossed his head back in a raucous laugh, jubilant as he always was when he could get Nate to stoop to his level. Even Brad couldn’t help but smile.

They looked good together - Nate was biting his lip to keep back his smile, and Ray was hanging off of Nate’s arm, laughing too hard to even pretend to keep up. Without warning, Nate pushed him out into a spin and Ray whooped. Nate pulled Ray back with practiced ease, scooping him neatly against his chest.

He looked down, smile wry, and said “I’d hate to think you were disappointed in me.” Nate’s tone was dry, dry as the desert, dry as a bone. It wasn’t an invitation, but Brad’s body reacted as if it was.

His stomach tightened and he felt his breath grow shallow. Ray was clearly having a similar reaction, because he stayed exactly where he was and stared up at Nate, completely enthralled. His eyes were wide and glassy and his mouth was slightly open. Over the top of Ray’s head, Nate twitched a suggestive eyebrow at Brad, and he released Ray and stepped back.

Qtip, his movements even more enthusiastic than usual due to what was probably an inordinate amount of beer, lunged out of the circle of guys and crowed “Nobody messes with the LT! You just got TOLD, son!”

Nate escaped Qtip’s exuberance and took refuge at Brad’s side.

“Ray? Really?” Brad asked, “You want to fuck Ray.”

“I’m not the only one who wants to fuck Ray,” Nate said placidly, as if they were choosing a restaurant for dinner, not discussing picking up one of their closest friends. "It's always been rather obvious that you do too."

“We don’t have to ask him if you don’t want,” Nate continued, “but he seems like he’d be able to handle it. I know for a fact that he hooks up with that drummer in his band occasionally.”

“Ryan? But he’s an idiot!” Brad was appalled. He wasn’t jealous no matter what Nate’s smirk might imply. He just thought Ray could do much better.

It had been awhile since they’d played this game, but Brad knew the rules. If Brad demurred, they’d move on, no explanation needed.

He considered for a moment. It wasn’t that Brad didn’t want this. On the contrary, now that the option was presented to him, he wanted it with an intensity that he didn’t trust. Nate was watching him think it over, and when Brad looked at Nate’s steady gaze, he thought “Why the hell not?” Nate had never steered him wrong before.

Brad said “If you’re going to proposition Ray after showing him up like that, you’re going to need to bring him a beer.”

Nate smiled, wide and sunny. “And I suppose, since I’m going, I should get you one too?”

Brad lifted a shoulder. It certainly wouldn’t hurt.

When Nate returned with the beverages, they went in search of Ray. They found him tucked away at a table in the corner, munching on Jordan Almonds from a wedding favor that almost assuredly did not belong to him.

“Ray,” Brad said, sliding into the seat next to him. “You know that tacit agreement we have where you pretend you don’t know Nate and I are dating and, in return, I don’t tell the worst stories I know about the fucked up shit you do when you’ve been drinking?” Ray’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, and he looked from Brad to Nate, who’d sat down on his other side.

“For the purposes of the following conversation,” Brad continued “I’d like to waive that agreement.”

“Yo, homes, the tacit part works better when you don’t talk about it casually in front of everyone we know.”

“Your concern is admirable, but unnecessary. Everyone is far too drunk to be paying us any mind,” Nate put in.

That wasn’t entirely accurate, but the pack mentality they tended to get was winding down. Now that Nate’s show was over, people had scattered throughout the room in knots of two and three, all holding their own conversations.

“So to what do I owe the dubious honor of having my vow of silence lifted? Trouble in paradise? Need some advice from your pal Ray-Ray?”

Nate looked at Brad over the top of Ray’s head, “Mouthy tonight, isn’t he?”

Brad grinned back, “I thought he’d have learned his lesson after you took him down like a little bitch, but apparently not. You know how it is with Ray. Sometimes it takes a few tries to get things through his skull, but he gets there eventually.”

“Fuck you both,” Ray said, tossing more almonds in his mouth. “Is there a point to this or is showing off your relationship some sort of weird foreplay thing for you?”

“Behave,” Brad commanded, “we come bearing beer.” Nate pushed the glass over to Ray, who accepted it, but eyed them suspiciously.

“By accepting this beer, I am in no way agreeing to whatever bullshit you two are about to drop on me. Drinking this beer conveys no responsibilities or obligations upon me.”

“So stipulated.” Nate agreed, looking stupidly fond at Ray’s inbred attempts at legalese.

“So what kind of bullshit _are_ you about to drop on me? It must be epic if it gets you two Victorians to admit to having feelings for each other in public.”

Nate shifted in his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee. Ray tried to look as if he weren’t staring at Nate’s thighs. Brad shook his head. Subtlety had never been Ray’s strong suit.

“No bullshit,” Nate said, “It’s just hard to invite you to come back to our hotel for a threesome if you’re pretending you don’t know about our relationship.”

“Nate!” Ray and Brad chorused in unison.

Nate raised his eyebrows, utterly unapologetic.

“That was the best you could do?” Brad was feeling let down by Nate’s reputation as a people person right now. Ray must still be in shock because he was being blessedly quiet as he watched this exchange.

“It’s Ray,” Nate said reasonably, “He’s not going to believe we’re nice people no matter what line I come up with. Besides, we might as well give him a sense of what he’s getting into.”

“What I’m getting into?” Ray exclaimed “Are you trying to hit on me or is this some sort of ‘the most dangerous game’ situation? Are you trying to fight me or fuck me?”

“If we’re doing it right, a little bit of both.” Nate ran the tip of his tongue along the bottom of his front teeth, and then bit his lower lip. It was an idiosyncratic gesture, and one Brad had seen a dozen times - during arguments, when Nate was flirting, when he came up with a particularly good point in a paper. It meant that Nate felt that he was winning, and he was enjoying it.

“What the _fuck?”_ Ray sputtered, “You… you fucking... _what?”_

Nate smirked at Ray over the top of his pint glass. “Sentences, Ray. Subject, verb, object.”

Ray looked at Brad, as it if to confirm that this wasn’t a cruel joke.

Brad nodded. “Nate’s offer, though crudely made, is genuine. If you’re interested, we’d like you to come home with us.”

Ray jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Nate, “Is he going to be this puffed-up about it the entire time?”

“Probably. He’s an asshole, but I find that getting naked tends to shut him up pretty effectively.”

“I’m right here,” Nate said pleasantly.

Ray turned back to Nate, “Are you planning on being an asshole the entire time?”

“Probably, but you getting naked would probably shut me up at least a little.”

Ray laughed, but shot another nervous look at Brad.

Brad said “Go bother someone else now, Nathaniel.”

Nate tipped his drink in a silent toast and headed over to where Christeson and his new bride were chatting with some guests. As always, Brad felt a flush of admiration for how quickly Nate shifted skins. He could go from being a self-righteous son-of-a-bitch to a church boy you’d bring home to your mother in the blink of an eye.

Brad turned back to Ray, “Ignore him. He’s just big headed because Christeson’s mom thinks he’s the second coming.”

“Oh fuck off,” Ray said and took another large swig of beer. “I don’t need you hanging around and trying to hold my hand. You didn’t shock me into growing a pussy.” Brad tried not to roll his eyes.

There was a reason Nate was usually the good cop when they pulled this maneuver at bars. He was much better at soothing people without letting people know they were being handled. Brad looked over at where Nate had slung his arm over Christeson’s shoulders. Nate had to be too far away to hear them, but Brad suspected he was being laughed at anyway. The set of Nate’s shoulders looked entirely too pleased.

“I’m not an idiot,” Ray continued “ but it’s not like you have literally ever given an indication that this is something  you’ve wanted.”

Ray was right. There had been opportunities, and Brad had studiously avoided all of them. He shrugged and said “You’re out now.”

Brad wasn’t the best at social interaction, but even he knew that there was no good way to say “I didn’t think it would be worth the inevitable fallout.” Now that Ray was out, any consequences would be safely contained in Brad’s personal life. He could deal with that.

Ray studied Brad closely “Why?”

Brad made an exasperated gesture. “What the fuck, Person, do I have to explain threesomes to you now? Sometimes when a person and another person see a third person, they decide…”

“Fuck you,” Ray interrupted, “Why?”

Brad raised an eyebrow. He was intimately familiar with the inner workings of Ray’s brain - mostly because they all seemed to become outer workings with little to no provocation - but if Brad weren’t so familiar with this emotion in his own right, he might have missed it. Self-doubt was not the reaction he had expected from Ray.

“Ray, what is so hard to understand about this? I don’t like most people; I can’t stand listening to them and I certainly wouldn’t want to have sex with them. You, much as I hate to admit it, are in the rare category of people who Nate likes who I can tolerate. Occasionally.”

Ray laughed. “It’s okay, buddy. You can just admit that people are put off by your thousand yard stare and don’t want to touch your dick, no matter how pretty your boyfriend is.”

“You know perfectly well that I do just fine.”

Ray still looked skeptical “You’ve done this before?”

“What the fuck is this? Couples counseling? Yes, you are not the first person Nate and I have invited to join us in bed.”

“Oh shut up,” Ray snapped, “It is not unreasonable for me to just _check in_ that this is not a fun new thing that you and Nate have decided to try with me as your unwitting guinea pig. I already have to deal with your passive-aggressive sulking everytime your warrior spirit stubs its toe, and I don’t want to deal with whatever Dashboard Confessional-listening, arm-slashing, eyeliner-wearing shitfit you would throw it it went badly and you and Nate broke up.”

Arguing with Ray was so much easier than soothing him that Brad had momentarily forgotten he was supposed to be flirting. He shifted gears.

“It’ll be fine, Ray. Rest assured, Nate is very _popular_ at Harvard.”

Ray paused, momentarily taken aback, and Brad felt a perverse sense of victory.

“I don’t know why I want to fuck you,” Ray muttered.

“Yes, you do,” Brad replied immediately, and gave Ray his best charming smile.

Ray rolled his eyes. “I’m in, dude, but fuck you for being so smug about it.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Brad said, pointing over Ray’s shoulder, “Pretty sure you already lost your place to crash.”

Ray turned to find Walt whispering in the ear of one of Evelyn’s bridesmaids. She was giggling, and wearing his suit jacket. Walt’s hand disappeared under the jacket, and appeared to be working its way dangerously low on her back.

“That traitor! Abandoning me for the comforts of the flesh!”

Brad stretched out his legs so that he could cross his ankles over Ray’s feet, leaned in and lowered his voice. “Nate and I will try to make it up to you as best we can.”

Ray blushed and choked on his beer, which was deeply gratifying.

Nate’s _Dirty Dancing_ approach to problem solving had raised his profile enough that sneaking away early was complicated. Brad and Ray sat at the table a while longer, the silence between them not as companionable as it usually was.

The air was electric with possibilities, and Ray kept _fidgeting_. He shifted positions in his seat, he ran his hand over the back of his neck,  he drummed a nervous tattoo on the table with his fingertips. After years of working together and friendship, Brad had gotten used to Ray, but now, knowing that it was just a little while until he could pin down those jittery fingers and taste the back of Ray’s neck, Brad was suddenly reliving every impure urge he’d had toward Ray since they’d met.

 After what simultaneously felt like an instant and an eternity, Ray was crouched over Brad’s legs with his forehead pressed into Brad’s shoulder. Nate leaned over Ray’s back to pull Brad into a kiss, causing Ray to whimper as the movement shifted Nate’s fingers in his ass.

Brad thrust his tongue into Nate’s mouth. Nate let him, for a moment, and then pulled back, scraping his teeth along Brad’s lower lip as he did. Ray was rocking back and forth helplessly trying to get some friction on his dick, but was held in place by Brad’s hands on his hips.

Nate looked pleased at the sounds Ray was making, and twisted to kiss and nip his way along Ray’s shoulder. Ray’s fingers flexed compulsively against Brad’s chest

“What do you think, Brad, is he ready for a third finger?”

Against his neck, Brad felt more than heard Ray mutter “Fuck yeah”  so he replied, “ Ray certainly seems to thinks so.”

Nate grabbed Brad’s hand off of Ray’s hip with his own lube covered hands, and twisted so his palm was along the back of Brad’s hand, entwined Brad’s fingers with his, twisting them around so that Brad’s fingers were properly coated, and slowly, slowly pushed them up into Ray. Brad swore under his breath. Ray was so tight and so gorgeous, writhing under their hands, rocking his hips forward in little aborted hitches, and then moving back again desperate for them to hit the right angles as they fingered him.

At that angle, Brad couldn’t really maneuver in tandem with Nate, so he let Nate take the lead in pushing their fingers where they needed to go. Nate was clearly planning on taking his time, because he alternated between dragging slow circles around the rim, teasing and stretching and thrusting deeper, hitting Ray’s prostate but not with any rhythm Ray could count on.

“Oh...fuck...yes…please, Nate…fuck...” Ray was begging incoherently against Brad’s shoulder, and his rocking against Brad’s hip had gotten more frantic. He lifted his head and kissed Brad in a frenzy of tongues and teeth.

Ray could barely focus, with Nate tormenting him, so he pressed rapid short kisses to Brad’s mouth, darting in and out to lick and nip at his mouth and throat and neck. Nate pulled back to watch what they were doing, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, his lower lip pulled between his teeth.

When Brad opened his eyes, he thought he could come just from watching how turned on Nate was, and feeling Ray’s tight heat on his fingers, hearing Ray fall completely apart against him. He was halfway to letting himself when Ray managed to pull himself together enough to  raise his head and gasp, “I thought you promised to fuck me. What the fuck are you waiting for, LT? I’m ready, let’s go.”

Brad felt Nate’s hand spasm where their fingers were tangled, and he didn’t have to look to know that Nate’s other hand had left Ray’s waist to grab his own dick to stave off an early orgasm. Christ. Brad was bizarrely proud of Ray for destroying Nate’s composure so effectively.

He leaned forward, biting and sucking along Ray’s collarbone and the tendons in his neck. Ray moaned, and his whole body twitched.  Nate pulled his fingers out and released his hold on Brad’s hand. Brad scooted back on the bed and laid flat, so that Ray could straddle him on his hands and knees, spreading himself wide for Nate. Brad reached around Ray to where Nate was putting on a condom and getting more lube, had Nate place some in his hand. He wrapped his hand loosely around Ray’s dick, not quite tight enough to be of any use.

Ray groaned, “Nate, hurry up...your boyfriend’s trying to fucking tease me to death.”

Brad leaned his head up and kissed Ray again, getting lost trying to follow Ray’s quick darting movement.  He was absorbed in Ray’s mouth, and only realized Nate was entering Ray, when Ray gasped suddenly, eyes closed, pressing his forehead to Brad’s.

Nate murmured encouragements and Brad rubbed his non-dick holding hand across Ray’s shoulders. Ray grit his teeth as Nate inched slowly in, turned his face to mouth at Brad’s wrist. Brad squeezed his shoulder encouragingly.  When he’d relaxed, Nate began to move, softly at first and then a little more vigorously. Ray arched his back, leaning into the touch.

Brad’s field of vision was all Ray, sweaty and gorgeous, eyes squeezed shut, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Ray was gasping with each movement, rocking back, trying to get more. At first, Brad let Nate’s movement and the movement of Ray’s hips be the only friction on Ray’s dick, keeping his hand still, letting Ray move slightly in his grasp. He focused his attention on Ray’s neck, and on listening Ray’s blend of curses, prayers and moans.

“Brad, you lazy fucker, why the fuck did we even invite you? Move!”

Brad pressed a sloppy kiss to Ray’s mouth and tightened his hand.

“Shiiit,” Ray sighed as Brad slid his hand slowly down the length of his cock and pressed against his balls. Now was not the time for finesse, so Brad set a punishing pace, twisting his hand to make sure his thumb was rubbing across the sensitive head of Ray’s dick with every stroke. Within a few strokes, Ray was climaxing, shaking under Brad’s hands and covering them with cum.  

Nate paused for a moment as Ray dropped and pressed his face into the mattress above Brad’s shoulder. Brad stretched over him and pulled Nate’s head down for a brief, brutal kiss, more grimace than caress. He brought his fingers, still slippery with Ray’s come to Nate’s lips, and Nate took them instantly into his mouth. Ray had recovered enough to watch with interest as Nate sucked and licked at Brad’s fingers. Nate moaned around the fingers in his mouth, and Ray’s hips bucked instinctively.

That was too much for Nate and for Brad. The former snapped his hips forward, and leaned against Ray’s crouching body, no longer caring about the angle, lost in his own pleasure. Brad dropped his hand to his own dick, and brought himself off in a couple of quick, jerky strokes. When he came down, Nate had finished also, and he and Ray were sprawled over Brad in a heavy, sticky heap.

“Fuck,” Ray said, drawing out the syllable, “You two play for keeps. You weren’t kidding.”

“We did warn you,” Nate pointed out.

“Shut up, both of you, and enjoy the fucking moment.”

Nate rolled off of him and headed for the bathroom, but Ray stayed where he was, acknowledging Brad’s complaint with a quick bite to the hip.

   
Later, but not nearly long enough later, Brad felt a sharp poke in the ribs. When he opened his eyes, Ray’s distressed face hovered over his.

“Yo, hold up, I didn’t get any _cake!”_

Brad blinked, trying to make the world make sense. Ray said, “Did you hear me? The only reason to suffer through a wedding is the cake!’

“Not to mention the lifelong happiness of your friends and loved ones.” Nate muttered drily somewhere to Brad’s left.

“And the sometimes free liquor! But, Brad, the cake, and I didn’t get any!”

“And that’s a pity, but I truly don’t know why you’re bothering me about this.”

Ray poked him again, “Because I would have gotten cake if it weren’t for you and Nate distracting me.”

A rustle under the covers told Brad that Ray tried to kick Nate just then, but the lack of retaliation from Nate’s side left him fairly certain that Ray missed.

“Ray, was your whiskey tango upbringing really so backwards that you’re complaining about receiving a really excellent orgasm?”

“Yes! And I demand restitution! In the form of cake!”

 Nate sat up, hopefully to rescue Brad, and curled up against Ray's back. He winked at Brad and then kissed Ray's shoulder.  
  
"They did pass out the cake while we were there, Ray. You might have missed it while you were playing drinking games. How about we make it up to you?"  
  
He pressed an open mouthed kiss to Ray's neck, but Ray was not to be deterred.  
  
"Orgasms don't help me me if I've starved to death, dude!"  
  
Nate frowned. "I saw you eat at least four dinner rolls. I am confident of your continued survival."

"Who are you? Marie Antoinette? That was bread. We’re talking about cake."  
  
Brad recognized this mood. This was the kind of mood that ended up in six man swaps of MRE components until Ray had the meal he wanted.  He rolled free of Ray's caging arm and gathered boxers and an undershirt from the floor, and threw them on. He pulled on pants from the drawer and then grabbed cash from his wallet and Nate's.  
  
"I can't believe you're indulging him," Nate said, flopping back against the pillows, "You spoil him."  
  
"Fuck off," Brad responded, without heat, "you stopped and got him a sandwich.”  
  
"I got everyone a sandwich," Nate said, and Brad and Ray exchanged looks. It was sad that he thought that was better.  
  
Brad returned from his vending machine foraging and dumped the spoils onto the coffee table. It wasn't much- Slim Jims, Snickers, Cheetos, pork rinds, an old granola bar, a few cans of soda. He tossed Ho Hos to Ray as Ray approached the table, and passed a bag of those weird jewelled orange slices to Nate, because they seemed like the kind of garbage candy Nate would like.  

 Nate smiled softly at his gift and tore into the bag, popping an orange slice into his mouth. Then he sat cross legged on the floor by the coffee table, and reached into the pile to choose snacks to his liking.

  Ray had already shoved one of the Ho Hos into his mouth in its entirety. It was disgusting and impressive that he’d also somehow managed to get crumbs in his hairline. Brad brushed them away as Ray came to sit next to him on the couch, then reached into the pile to grab a Slim Jim for himself.

 They ate in comfortable silence for a while, reaching past each other, breaking snacks in half and tossing them to one another without talking about it. It felt familiar though they’d never done it before, like a routine from a time Brad couldn’t remember.

 Eventually there was nothing left but wrappers, and half a bag of Cheetos that no one wanted to finish. Nate was leaning back on his elbows, looking softly contented. Brad allowed himself to slouch a little on the couch, stretching his legs out to tangle with Nate’s. Ray broke the silence.

 “I can’t believe you got me cake.”

 “Ho Hos aren’t cake.” Brad said, almost automatically.

 “In the opinion of this Marine,” Ray said, blithely unconcerned with Brad’s dismissal,  “they’re better.”

 “In the opinion of the Hostess Snack company,” Nate said from the floor, holding up the wrapper he was reading from, “They are chocolate cake rolled with creamy filling, so I believe you’re outvoted.”

 “Mmm,” Ray said, waggling his eyebrows “Creamy filling.”

 Nate laughed, and Brad scowled.

 “Don’t encourage him.”

 Nate’s smile was full of mischief. “What happens in if I do?”

 “Then you wake up to texts of Ray’s alternative lyrics to Eurythmics songs.” Brad said darkly.

 Nate threw his head back in laughter. Ray pushed at Brad’s shoulder, saying “Hey! Those are a masterpiece!”

 He slipped into Brad’s lap, and dropped between Brad’s legs, singing “Wet dreams are made of this, miles of cum are all I see.”

 Nate pulled his legs back to make room, still laughing helplessly. Brad missed the next lyrics, as Ray rubbed the heel of his hand across Brad’s dick,  and then Ray tossed a cheeky grin at Nate before leaning in to run his tongue along the inseam of Brad’s jeans and singing a muffled “Everybody’s looking for fucking!”

 “Ray,” Brad said, and it came out shakier than he’d have liked, “Please shut up.”

 Ray grinned at him and reached up to undo his fly.

 

After Brad regained the feelings in his legs, they staggered over to the bed. Brad flopped down on his stomach, more than ready to pass out. Next to him, Nate and Ray were going back and forth trying to identify a word that was stuck on the tip of Ray’s tongue (“Virago?” “No, that’s a chick. But it’s definitely a v word”), because Brad apparently had a type, and it was “irritatingly chatty after sex.”

Nate’s fingers were absently tracing the curve of Brad’s hip, where Ray bit him earlier. He sleepily wondered if he had a bruise there, but couldn’t be bothered to check. If he didn’t, he was sure one of them would remedy that in the morning.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who are not children of the 80s, Ray is singing a bastard version of Sweet Dreams (are made of this)


End file.
